


Not at the end of the road

by diabla616



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 15:07:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19466518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diabla616/pseuds/diabla616
Summary: Morrigan finds true friendship along the way. Or: four things the Warden did for Morrigan, and the one thing Morrigan did for her.





	Not at the end of the road

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).



As a child Morrigan is fascinated by beautiful things; by gold and jewels and all such trappings of the life she’s been close enough to see, but inescapably separated from, a lone apostate child in her corner of the Korcari wilds.

At first, merely a child, she resents this. Better, she thinks, to be completely removed from what she cannot have. Better, perhaps to be unaware that _something else_ exists at all.

Resentment fades, in time, into something bitter, simmering below the surface when she does have to interact with the towns outside of the Wilds. For a period it is enough, perhaps, that Flemeth allows her to spend her anger on the humans who pose a threat; who purposefully or not venture too close to the little hut in the Wilds.  
For a time, it’s enough. Sometimes she talks to the villagers, learns from them. Sometimes she lets them go unharmed.

Then one day things change. There’s a carriage passing the village, with a noble family, and Morrigan can’t help but be drawn to watching it. It feels like childhood once more; beautiful ornate things, which are out of her reach.  
Only they aren’t any more; she’s faster, more powerful than she could have imagined as a child, and she takes her prize boldly as the party stops for refreshment in the village.  
It’s beautiful – a delicate hand-held mirror, decorated richly with rubies and gilded so it shines when the light hits it.

Flemeth dashes it against a rock that evening, and Morrigan feels the resentment in her crystallise into something sharper, more hurtful.  
In future she's more careful, more ruthless. Where possible she avoids other humans, where it isn't few survive; she takes no prisoners, keeps no trophies, and leaves no witnesses.  
Though she never goes back to that village.

Morrigan isn’t sure what prompts her to tell the Warden this; it’s hardly a shared life experience – for all but luck Elissa Cousland could have been the noble girl she stole the mirror from all those years prior – though she does anyway.

Two days later, as they set camp for the night, she’s left scrabbling for words as the Warden presents her with a beautiful golden mirror.  
_“I hear you lost yours”_ , she says.

Somewhere, the girl who had been enthralled by such senseless trinkets, the one Morrigan had believed long gone, stirs.  
_“A fine gift,”_ she manages eventually.

********

Travelling with the Warden is naturally dangerous. Not that this concerns Morrigan; she’s survived Templars in the Wilds – anything less is hardly worth her time.  
The assassin is unexpected, but he’s also useless, and easily overcome by their party. She’s a little concerned when he then _becomes_ a part of their party, but the Warden is proving more astute than perhaps she’s previously been given credit for. Either way, a few nights of restlessness aside, eventually Alistair is the only one left still losing sleep over his presence.

The Circle shouldn’t be a surprise; mages kept in close quarters, effectively jailed by their Templar supervisors, and _of course_ one should expect a few abominations. Not, perhaps to the extent of the corruption they find, but certainly Morrigan had expected something of the sort, even before they arrived at lake Calenhad. 

She’s prepared – they all are – for when things go horribly wrong in the Brecilian Forest. The Keeper isn’t exactly the most trustworthy of elves, and even Alistair can tell there’s something not right.Being prepared though, prevents any of the party from suffering more than a few scrapes, easily healed by the elderly circle mage who joined them (much to Morrigan’s displeasure) once they set camp, a few hours travel outside the Forest. 

Ironic, then that it should be something much more mundane which poses the greatest risk. To Morrigan at least; a day’s travel from Orzammar their next destination, and Alistair is tired, and Leliana bored, an almost insufferable combination. Morrigan therefore spends most of her energy on seeking a suitable place to camp, which still doesn’t excuse the fact that she very nearly walks headlong into a trap. Flemeth would be furious. 

Fortunately the Warden is faster, managing to pull Morrigan out of harm’s way just in time, and the tripwire stretches taut, then relaxes as she stumbles away from it. They travel for another few hours after that, sobered and silent before making camp further away from the beaten path.   
Later still, just before sleep hits, Morrigan has time to consider that she hadn't thought to thank the Warden at all.

********

They rest in Lothering after leaving the Wilds, Alistair, Morrigan and the Warden. Alistair takes the time to seek out the Chantry for whatever reason he might have, but Morrigan, in the absence of something else to occupy her time, follows the Warden on her errands. Which apparently involve several hours spent negotiating prices and trade with local merchants. After they leave, several gold pieces lighter, Morrigan finds herself in the possession of a new staff. It’s hard to parse why exactly the thought is unsettling – they’ve certainly come across various bits of equipment already on their travels, and have appropriated them where needed, but this is the first time their funds have been explicitly spent on something for her benefit – no other member of their party uses a staff, even now they’ve rescued a Qunari prisoner who _may_ be a murderer, and a lay sister who _may_ be crazy . 

Thanks don’t come easily, though it’s less of a hardship to comment on the quality of her new staff during their next battle. The warden’s answering smile is – unexpected. Nice though. Morrigan isn’t entirely sure what to say to that, so she says nothing.

********

They find the book in the mages’ tower, a heavy tome bound in black leather. She’d mentioned it to the Warden previously – had remembered Flemeth years prior furious at its theft. At the time she had imagined forbidden magics, lost arts perhaps.   
That’s not what she finds.

The Warden hands it to her at the camp, evidently curious as to what it contains, but trusting enough to hand it to her nonetheless. It’s a foolish attitude to have. Though something about that trust makes Morrigan want to smile. 

There’s no arcane technique hidden within, instead what Morrigan finds herself reading is an account of Flemeth’s life, in her own words. It is fascinating at first, then unnerving; a painstaking history of Flemeth’s daughters, and the pivotal role they play in her own lifespan. Morrigan reads it all with mounting horror, the pieces falling into place about her own fate. She can’t allow that.

The party plans to leave for Orzammar the following morning, the last of the Warden treaties being that signed by the dwarves, though Morrigan can’t rest. Flemeth is a threat to her now, as she must have always been, and once learned the knowledge is impossible to unknow, even to allow for a night of uninterrupted rest, too busy devising and discarding solutions to her problem.  
Eventually it becomes clear this isn't one she can resolve on her own. It's somewhat startling to realise, eventually, that there _is_ someone she trusts with a task this vital.

When the Warden returns, another large, leather-bound book in hand it's perhaps the greatest sense of relief Morrigan has felt in her lifetime.   
It is short-lived, however; Orzammar is only days away and the Archdemon's shadow looms ever closer, and with it the inevitable fate of her first true friend. 

********

The magic she needs is old, forbidden in most places, feared in all. It's hard-won knowledge, and the answer it offers isn't an easy path. 

It isn't something she's ever wanted for herself, motherhood; even as a young girl, enamoured by the society she found herself on the outside of, she hadn't once entertained the thought that might be her future. The reality of what she plans to do very nearly terrifies her; the commitment she plans to make is not one to be taken lightly, and she has no experience outside of that which Flemeth provided her. 

Though, she thinks of the Warden, of several little acts of kindness, of a gilded mirror, still sitting amongst her treasured possessions, and it doesn't seem that terrifying after all. A commitment it might be, but to save the life of the best friend she's ever known? Surprisingly enough she finds, it's a very simple decision to make. 


End file.
